


A Misleading Ball, Shirt, and Some Fur

by amadscientistapproaches



Series: Werewolf AU [4]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: A Mabel and Ford adventure, Dipper still adores the Author, Ford being dramatic, Gen, Mabel is done with her uncles, Maybel 2018, Supernatural - Freeform, built in for him, it's like, monthofmaybel2018, sort them out girl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-04-27 02:34:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14415780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amadscientistapproaches/pseuds/amadscientistapproaches
Summary: So, in all the drama of Ford returning from the portal, no one remembered to tell him that half the people in his house are technically supernatural creatures.Written for Maybel 2018, Week 3: Supernatural





	A Misleading Ball, Shirt, and Some Fur

Mabel pounced into the living room. Her eyes narrowed when she saw it was empty.

“They wouldn’t have gone back down to the basement, would they?” she asked Waddles, who snorted out an answer no more certain than her question.

Mabel didn’t think it was likely. After the last full moon, it wasn’t as though it was even necessary.

She padded further inside, but the room was definitely empty.

“Are they hiding?” she wondered. She’d only gone upstairs for a minute! What could have happened? Besides the moonrise, of course. She’d missed tonight’s, but that wasn’t something she had to worry about anymore. Dipper and Stan weren’t going through the Change alone; they had each other, which made things a whole lot less scary. No matter how many times it had happened to them before, they both agreed that it was still pretty unnerving having some other part of themselves surface and take over their body for a few nights every month.

A muffled noise came from the closed gift shop. Mabel headed in.

It was dark, but that didn’t discourage her. Werewolves had good night vision, so she supposed it would be easy for them to make their way around. Her, on the other hand . . .

Mabel made her way along the wall, searching for the light switch.

“Come on, you dumb thing,” she grumbled after a fruitless while. “Where the heck-”

A hand closed over her mouth. Her shriek was blocked as it rose up in her chest, but before she could even begin coordinating herself to fight back, both the unique feeling of the person’s hand and sound of the whispered voice from behind her made her stop.

“Mabel, wait, it’s just me-”

Well. Mostly stop.

The six-fingered hand recoiled abruptly.

“Did you just _lick_ me?” Whispered Ford.

“What was _that_ about?” Mabel whispered back, turning to face him. She could just make out how he was kneeling in front of her, wiping his hand on his coat.

“You were making too much noise.” He said, looking around the darkened gift shop warningly. “Some creature is inside.”

“Like . . . a monster from the forest?”

Ford nodded, slowly standing up, still peering around.

Oh boy. This could go any number of ways. There was that weird . . . Thing a little while ago that had found its way inside, eaten all their candy and watched TV with her and Dipper, but on the other end of the scale –

She gulped at the thought of things like the gremloblin, or the Shapeshifter.

On the bright side, she supposed she got to have a little adventure with the Author. She had a pretty good idea of what he was like just from reading the Journal, but hadn’t spent a lot of time with him so far. This would be the perfect opportunity to rectify that. Mabel could practically see Ford and Stan brushing away all their decades-old issues right now! She was certain that when he was exposed to the power of Mabel, her uncle would have no choice but to give in. And it all started with catching whatever thing had found its way inside.

“I began to suspect it while I was in the basement.” Ford informed her quietly, leading the way cautiously to a rack of clothing. He prodded it suspiciously. “There was some damage to the portal and other machines that could only be explained through supernatural activity.”

Finding nothing inherently dangerous about the rack, he moved on towards the counter, motioning for her to follow. Mabel listened for any sounds of movement behind it. Nothing. Ford decided that that was the case too.

“When I came up here, I found signs that confirmed my thoughts.” He continued. He paused the search momentarily to reach into his pocket. Carefully, Mabel took the ominous items he handed over.

They turned out to be a squeaky ball, a severely torn white button-up shirt, and a few tufts of grey fur.

Mabel knew where they had come from. She’d been meaning to repair the shirt herself.

Ford knelt down again, looking warily between her and the unchecked surroundings.

“Mabel, I believe that a werewolf is in this house _right now_ ,” he hissed.

Mabel stared at him. “Um,” she said.

The door creaked half-open, spilling in light from the living room. Ford hushed her and darted towards it. He gathered himself, then flung open the door all the way.

Waddles oinked at him.

“Grunkle Ford-” Mabel started, but Ford was already investigating the rest of the Shack, deciding that the gift shop was empty.

_Oh jeez._

Mabel hurriedly dropped the evidence and hastened after him.

She found him looking around the corner into the hallway. He brushed off her tugs on his coat, looking at something at the end of the hall. Then he stiffened. Then he drew his gun.

“I really hope silver bullets aren’t the only things that work . . .” he muttered.

Alarmed at how this was escalating, Mabel heard the unmistakeable sound of something large approaching down the hall.

Ford stepped out and raised the weapon.

The werewolf growled.

“DON’T!” Yelled Mabel, launching herself with all the force she was capable of mustering at Ford. She tackled him hard around the middle, managing to knock him to the floor. The gun went skidding away, and Mabel gave it an extra kick as it passed her. Then she was scrambling to her feet and –

\- falling back through the air again as something tackled _her._

“MABEL!” She heard Ford yell.

“Oof!”

She was buried under a great shaggy mass and was not afraid at all.  Ford was probably a different matter, though.

She wriggled her way out from under Stan, laughing when he gave her a lick. Ford had frozen halfway towards them, clearly disconcerted.

“Mabel?”

“I’m okay!” She would have said more, but Dipper bounded in and excitedly circled Ford before rearing up on his hind legs and placing his paws on his stomach. Ford pushed him off roughly, tension infecting the very air around him. Dipper whined, looking hurt. Stan growled again.

“Grunkle Ford!” Mabel exclaimed. “Apologise to Dipper!”

“No, I – what?” He was looking more confused by the second.

Mabel got herself into a sitting position, legs crossed and hands linked professionally. “I realise that this must be strange, Grunkle Ford, but listen. Your brother,” she pointed at Stan, “and my brother,” she pointed at Dipper, “are werewolves. So don’t attack them!”

Ford processed. He frowned at Stan, and at Dipper, looking back and forth between them. Stan didn’t appreciate the scrutiny, and huffed impatiently, which Mabel assumed was the equivalent of an eyeroll. The huff said a lot of things, from “this might take a while” to “this guy is a knucklehead” to “let’s go do something fun”.

She guessed, with a generous amount of disappointment, that things weren’t going to be alright between her uncles, even when one of them was a different, friendlier species.

Welp, the plans to hug it out were once again thrown into the wind.

Finally, Ford seemed to accept the reality of the situation. He looked at Stan in a strange mixture of astonishment and concern.

“Stan? How long have you been like this?”

Stan flicked his head irritably.

“He’s a wolf, Grunkle Ford. He can’t talk.” Mabel supplied.

 “Oh. Of course.” Ford shook himself. “But . . . this is incredible! I’ve never seen a werewolf before, or at least, a wolf-shaped one. This is amazing!”

His shock quickly turning to excitement, he pulled one of the Journals out of nowhere and began frantically scribbling in it, advancing purposefully on Stan to examine him, letting out a half-laugh as he found that Stan was still pretty much the same height as him. Once he actually sat down opposite Mabel and began to sketch, Stan had had enough of being weirded out. He made sure to flick Ford in the face with his tail on his way out of the room.

Ford sighed. “Another time, then.” Mabel found herself feeling guiltily hopeful at the flash of regret on his face. She was sure it couldn’t _just_ be because of a missed opportunity to study a creature.

Dipper bounded up to Ford, wagging his tail eagerly.

“Are you volunteering?” Ford asked, amused. When Dipper climbed into his lap affirmatively, he chuckled and scratched behind the boy’s ears, which Dipper thoroughly enjoyed.

“I apologise for the way I acted before,” Ford said formally. Dipper licked his face.

“I’m not sure how to feel about that,” their uncle laughed.

“He forgives you,” translated Mabel.

“How long has he been like this?”

“A few years. We thought it was just a dog bite and got him tested for rabies and everything. Mom and Dad don’t know about this part.” Mabel said nonchalantly. “Dunno when it happened for Grunkle Stan.” Ford dutifully took this down in the Journal. Dipper settled into his uncle’s lap more comfortably, the movement attracting Ford’s attention.

“Wow.” He looked closely at Dipper’s paws.

“Yep.” Said Mabel cheerily. “Opposable thumbs!”

“So, as of this, and his and Stan’s unusual size, werewolves are not indistinguishable from regular wolves,” Ford murmured.

“No sirree. They’re really smart, too. Almost like humans, I’m pretty sure,”

Ford nodded. “That’s very observant of you. You’re right, a lot of supernatural creatures have cognitive functions just as advanced as humans’,”

“Cool,” Mabel grinned. She was rather enjoying this little bit of field work with her uncle.

“Indeed,” Ford agreed. Dipper yapped a contribution as well. “I am going to have so many questions for you in the morning.” Ford told him.

“He might not be able to answer them.” Mabel said. “He doesn’t usually remember a lot.”

Ford sighed. “I thought that might be the case.” He looked wistfully back to where Stan had disappeared up the stairs. “Studying a fully-grown werewolf would be extraordinary.” He said absent-mindedly. Then he turned back to her. “What if I gave _you_ the questions I have for Stanley? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you-”

 “ _No_ , Grunkle Ford,” she practically groaned, shaking her head fiercely. “I like doing this stuff with you, but if you wanna talk to Grunkle Stan, you gotta suck it up and do it yourself. Enough with all this – this stupid stuff! You guys need to get over it already! It’s not like this is helping anyone! In fact, everyone, including you and Stan, would be much better off if you’d just hug it out already!”

She made an expansive gesture. At the same time, she realised her voice had risen to levels quite a bit louder than she had used around Ford yet, in a tone that was definitely not the politest she had ever been. The nice mood from before fizzled out like a sparkler, if sparklers ever made her think that she had _really_ overstepped her boundaries.

_Wow, I had that bottled up._

Ford stayed still. She wasn’t sure if he just didn’t know how to react, or whether this was how he got when he was not-blow-up angry.

It might have been a bit of both.

They stared at each other for a moment, Ford dropping his gaze first. Dipper had gone very quiet. He wasn’t wagging his tail anymore. She could see a frown on her uncle’s face, but he kept stroking Dipper’s fur, so she thought that he probably wasn’t going to snap at her. With a wince, she thought – too late – that maybe she hadn’t phrased it in the best way. But she’d had to say _something_! She didn’t want to be around all these cold-shouldered, resentful silences whenever Stan and Ford were in a room together. She wanted things to be simple and better again. She wanted Ford to be a _proper_ part of her family. She wanted her uncles to make up, and she wanted to know that it was possible for that to happen, because if it wasn’t then wouldn’t that mean she and Dipper could end up like that?

Looking now at Ford’s resolution to not even respond to her outburst however, any friendship between him and Stan seemed more unattainable than ever.

She caught Dipper’s eye, not sure what to do now. The silence was stretching on and on. She’d really messed up, hadn’t she? They’d been having a nice conversation, Ford had even been engaging with her about his work, and she’d gone and messed it up. Great.

Dipper gave her a look. It was full of confidence that she would know exactly what to do in this situation. She usually would, so why was now any different?

Well, she knew what she would do if it was _Stan_ . . .

Hoping that he wouldn’t object, she moved forwards and gave him a big hug, wrapping her arms around his neck and sitting on his left leg. Dipper moved over a bit so that she could do it properly. Ford started, but after a second, gingerly hugged her back.

“Sorry,” Mabel said.

“No, no. You’re – no.” Ford dismissed. “It’s not your fault. _Either_ of your faults.” he said firmly, tapping Dipper’s back where his fingers were curled in the soft fur. Dipper rolled around and nuzzled them in acknowledgement. “But – you have to understand – Stan and I . . . it’s-”

“Complicated,” finished Mabel tiredly.

“Yes,” Ford said emphatically, not noticing her tone. Another silence stretched out, less awkward, but more uncertain about where to go from there.

“Wanna talk about some more supernatural stuff?” she asked.

Ford brightened immediately, probably out of relief that the subject had changed.

“Have I told you about my first encounter with the gnomes?”

Dipper’s ears perked up once more. They’d read about it, of course, but having him actually tell them would be another thing entirely. So she grinned and shook her head.

They stayed curled up like that for a few hours, telling stories, thoroughly numbing Ford’s legs. He didn’t ask them to move though, even when it came to drawing Dipper in the Journal. The end result was complete with a sketch of all three of them sitting on the living room floor, in almost the exact same spot they’d fallen asleep with Stan a month ago.

So, Mabel thought that maybe family was a lot more important to Ford than he was letting on. And since that was the case, she didn’t think it was too unreal to imagine him and Dipper and herself curled up here one day, talking about weird things in Gravity Falls, with Stan as well. In fact, Mabel would make sure of it.


End file.
